Pertaining to Draco Malfoy's Heart
by KatieZ
Summary: Draco Malfoy has long been gone from British soil. Upon his return he learns that while his body may have been absent from the place he called home, his heart had never truly left England. DG.


_Disclaimer:_ _All characters, plots, etc. from the Harry Potter books belong to J. K. Rowling. All I own is the story._

The Ministry of Magic's balls were formal and boring affairs. He had learned this quite a few years ago. It had been a while since he had attended one, seeing as the heir of one of the Dark Lord's most ardent supporters had not been welcome in the Ministry after the Second War. Draco Malfoy had, quite wisely, opted to leave Britain once the war was complete and his father sentenced to Azkaban. He had left the dark corners of Malfoy Manor to be raided by the Ministry. After all, those possessions in the Manor, which would be of most interest to the Ministry, were most definitely not his. Not yet, anyway. Although Draco had indeed been of age when the Second War ended, his father was still alive, still lucid. Therefore the Manor and all of its possessions still belonged to Lucius Malfoy. Draco knew his father, facing life in Azkaban and possibly the Dementor's Kiss, would not have the ability to deny this fact. And he would have no reason to do deny it. The Ministry was no longer being as "lenient" as they had been after the first fall of Voldemort and Lucius had always been proud of who he was. So Draco and his mother had left Britain for a slightly warmer climate. Narcissa arranged for them to stay with one of her dearest friends from Hogwarts. The witch now lived in southern France. Draco had spent a few years in France, loafing around dating loose French witches. But then he had found that France bored him and he took leave of his mother and her friend in search of more interesting pastimes, returning to France for holidays with his mother. Watching himself in the mirror Draco now reminded himself that he had indeed found what he had been looking for, although sometimes it was hard to believe.

"Mr. Malfoy, you do not want to be late," the butler advised him, glancing at a pocket watch.

Draco gave a very short nod and afforded himself one last once over in the mirror. He smoothed a hand over his slicked back hair and then over a few nonexistent wrinkles in his black dress robes. Once he was satisfied that no one would be able to find fault with his appearance, Draco Malfoy turned on his heel and swept past the butler and out of the room before he could hear his mirror idly comment "You look as elegant as ever, sir."

At the door Draco paused to grab his heavy winter cloak, swinging it over his shoulders and fastening it quickly as he pulled on black leather gloves. The butler had reappeared at the door and opened it for Draco.

"Have a good time, sir," said the butler stiffly.

"I sincerely doubt it," was Draco's reply.

Draco gave a nod to his butler, stepped outside, removed his wand from the pocket of his robes and quickly Apparated to the Ministry of Magic.

Uncharacteristically, Draco Malfoy was a bit nervous as he approached the security guard in the Atrium, although no one would ever be able to tell. He handed his wand over for registration as a few other wizards and witches who did not work for the Ministry queued up behind him after either Apparating or Flooing in. Draco knew that some of them were staring at him. He knew some were probably interested, some disgusted, and some simply did not care. Draco kept his face void of expression and emotion as the security guard looked at him with some suspicion and then read to Draco the statistics of his wand.

"Is that correct, Mr. Malfoy?" the security guard demanded gruffly.

"Yes," Draco replied after hearing the size and make of his wand.

"I have to ask to see your invitation, Mr. Malfoy," said the security guard with a grim face and, Draco suspected, a small amount of satisfaction. "Only legitimate guests are allowed in tonight. We can't be too careful."

"Of course," Draco replied in a monotone. He quickly produced his invitation and handed it over to the security guard.

Once upon a time the Malfoy family had been in such good standing, and had the Minister of Magic so terrified of them, that no one would have dared to deny a Malfoy entrance to the ball, let alone even ask to see an invitation as was standard procedure for all non-Ministry employees. But with Lucius Malfoy now dead after being locked in Azkaban as a known and confessed Death Eater the name "Malfoy" was not what it once had been and did not warrant an automatic invitation from the Minister of Magic or any other Ministry employee. Draco had to admit that he had been shocked when he had received his invitation.

"Is everything in order?" Draco finally asked when he saw the security guard eyeing his invitation warily.

"Yes, rather odd, though," muttered the security guard. It appeared that the guard was about to say more about Draco's invitation when he glanced up and saw the line behind Draco. "Go right ahead, Mr. Malfoy," the guard said crisply, already holding his hand out for the next wand to register.

Draco slipped both his wand and his invitation into the pocket of his robes and checked his cloak before continuing up a few floors to the ballroom. He remembered watching his parents when he was a child, particularly his mother, prepare for the ball. Draco had actually only attended twice. He remembered sweeping into the ballroom behind his parents, Pansy Parkinson on his arm, while most of the room turned to stare. Draco understood that those days were over. He was glad those days were over. Draco was no longer quite the selfish brat of a teenager he had been as the Malfoy heir. If anyone noticed him when he slipped quietly into the already crowded ballroom they ignored him. This suited Draco just fine.

Quietly, Draco Malfoy made his way towards a rather isolated corner of the room, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter as he went. His eyes raked the room as he sipped slowly at his drink, wondering who was in attendance and if their lives had changed as much as his had in the past years. Draco recognized the bushy hair of Hermione Granger and watched as she leaned in to whisper something to a redhead who Draco guessed was Ron Weasley. He wondered if they were married yet, assuming they were at least engaged if not married. Their rows had been legend at Hogwarts, even among those not in Gryffindor who did not witness the most passionate of their rows. Everyone had known it was only a matter of time before Granger and Weasley bit the bullet. Draco recognized a few other people and saw a few other redheads that he did not particularly recognize. He knew they must be Weasleys.

After a few more minutes everyone was called to eat dinner. Draco glanced at his invitation and found the number for his table printed on it. He was not surprised that he did not recognize the wizards and witches at his table. They made polite conversation with him and each other as they made good work on the food presented to them.

"Well, now, as dinner winds down," the Minister of Magic said through a rather weak sonorous charm, "a few words before the orchestra begins. As you all know it is tradition to announce new appointments at this ball and we have a few this year, though I promise not enough to bore you."

Draco seriously doubted that he would not be bored, but he did not smirk nor sniff. In fact, for most of the evening the countenance of Draco Malfoy had been studiously blank. The trademark Malfoy smirk had not been seen once all dinner, though he had smiled rather charmingly at the daughter of the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

And then he saw her. She was wearing strapless blue robes that fell to the floor and managed to look both decently modest and devastatingly sexy at the same time. Draco realized that he had not been breathing and forced himself to look away. He had known the moment he received the invitation that he would drop everything and return to England. The pull was too great.

He told himself it was merely curiosity. To see that girl who had so captivated him all those years ago. He told himself that it was for closure. He told himself that whatever they had pursued in France had not been properly wrapped up and that was why he was going. But Draco knew that his affair with her-for that was exactly what it had been though neither had been married—had been given a proper ending. They had both seen to that. There had never been any question of if it was over. It was over. Draco had known it was over for the last six years. Neither was it really about idle curiosity. His curiosity had more to do with the fact that he still thought about her.

At first Draco had cursed himself for not being able to get her out of his mind. But then after a few months he realized that he was thinking of her less and less, that he was allowing her to fade to merely a memory instead of an obsession. He let her go. But she would still invade his mind at random moments, maybe only twice in one year, maybe three times in one month. But Draco knew that however much time he spent not thinking about her she was always there in the back of his mind.

Ever since Draco had received the invitation to the Ministry's ball, and then the news of his father's death, she had not left Draco Malfoy's mind. He thought about her constantly since he had discovered that he had been given two very good excuses to return to Britain. Draco wondered if he would see her at the ball. He had not really expected to, though he had hoped. Of course he had hoped. For two long months while he prepared everything for his departure and then collected his mother from France she had been with him every moment of every day. The memory of what had once been haunted Draco; it never left him, not even during his father's funeral.

The funeral for his father had been a rather somber, small affair. There was no need to publicize_. The_ _Daily Prophet_ had ensured that every wizard and witch knew that Lucius Malfoy, who had been given the Dementor's Kiss after three years in Azkaban, had finally died. Draco was Lucius' only heir and had inherited the entire estate. He had been relieved to find that the Ministry had since confiscated all of the Dark artifacts in the Manor. Narcissa and Draco had really been the only ones at the funeral. They had not wanted anyone stopping by to either gawk or make trouble. Mother and son were both glad that Lucius was finally at rest. For Draco it meant he could truly get on with his life. His Death Eater father had died. But, whatever Lucius Malfoy may have been, whatever heinous crimes he may have committed, he had still been Draco's father and Draco missed him.

After the funeral Narcissa had returned to France, kissing Draco on the cheek and telling him not to work too hard putting the paperwork and such to rights. She was glad her son would have the distraction of the Ministry ball. Narcissa had always loved formal events. Draco was finding them increasingly dull. He stayed in a large townhouse in a wizard section of London that his father had owned. The Manor was not fit to live in anymore. But throughout all of the meetings, contacting everyone who needed to be contacted, and the general flurry of activity that accompanies funerals and putting one's estate in order, Draco never forgot the girl who had come to be a permanent fixture in his thoughts.

He had never imagined that she would be there. And there she was. He saw her standing before him and was not quite sure what to do. She was a hundred times more beautiful than she had been the last time he saw her. Draco wondered why she was there. He wondered why his heart was in his throat. He knew that he could not talk to her. They had both been very clear with each other when they had parted ways in France six years ago. Do not write. Do not make contact. Keep the memory, but try to forget this ever happened. Draco now wondered if he had been insane. He had never forgotten. No matter what had happened over the years in her life, he had never forgotten. Draco's senses finally returned to him and he turned his attention to the Minister of Magic as he caught the very last of the Minister's announcements.

"…And finally, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Miss Ginevra Weasley," said the Minister of Magic.

Draco watched as the redhead stood up briefly while the room clapped politely. Draco also clapped his hands together a few times.

"…Miss Weasley has made considerable progress with giving our Muggle Relations program a much needed facelift resulting in a decrease in Muggle baiting and other petty crimes and offenses. We are confident that she will continue to work her magic in this department. No pun intended."  
A few weak laughs greeted the Minister, who quickly wrapped things up and then asked the orchestra to begin playing and Draco's fellow table companions resumed their chatter.

"I must say that I'm surprised they appointed Ginevra Weasley as head of the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement," a pompous old wizard to Draco's left said as soon as the orchestra began to tune.

"Well, you know that her father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office," said one of the older witches, "and her brother was an Auror. Maybe that had something to do with it."

"I doubt it," a considerably younger witch at the table replied. Draco recognized her as the one who had introduced herself as the daughter of the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. "From what I hear she really is the best qualified candidate."

"She's so young," the first wizard complained.

Draco stopped listening to them and returned his attention once more to the vision in dark blue dress robes. He could not stop marveling at how beautiful she had become. Perhaps, he thought to himself, it was because he had not seen her in so long and had, over the years, formed their time together into something of a fairytale moment. The gentleman interrupted his thoughts across the table from him.

"Do you know her?" the wizard asked.

"What?" Draco asked, flustered, then angry with himself for becoming flustered in the first place. "I'm sorry, what did you ask me?"

"Do you know Ginevra Weasley? You're staring at her," the wizard replied, the accusation light though Draco knew the man was eagerly awaiting the answer.

"Well, I've seen her a few times I think," Draco replied, the lie forming almost as easily as he would have wanted. "It seems to me we went to Hogwarts together, though she wouldn't have been in my house. Weasleys were all in Gryffindor. Bad manners on my part, I'm afraid, to stare, but I thought I recognized her and couldn't quite place how I knew her until just now."

"Oh, I understand. It's so easy to forget other Hogwarts students if you weren't in the same house. I was in Ravenclaw…."

Draco stopped listening to the wizard. How could he forget the girl who had hexed him in his fifth year? Draco had vowed to hate her forever when she did that. _Then what happened?_ a small voice asked him. Draco could not answer because he did not know what had happened. Draco did not know why he had even looked twice at that girl in the South of France. But he had and for whatever reason Ginny Weasley was the beauty he could not forget.

For the rest of the night, Draco tried to work up the courage to go up and talk to her. But he knew what would happen if he did that. He would be disappointed. He would be polite. Her family would look daggers at him. She would be cool and distant, merely a face he recognized from Hogwarts. He would only be congratulating her on her appointment to department head. She would only be being polite to a man who had once been her brother's archenemy at school. Draco wanted to believe that Ron Weasley had grown up and was past their rivalry from Hogwarts, but he knew instinctively that school rivalries could last forever. Draco still harbored ill feelings towards Harry Potter and was glad that he did not see the hero of wizard-kind that night.

Three hours later Draco decided it was time to leave, time to stop torturing himself with thoughts of what might have been, of what could be. He cursed himself for being a coward and made a quiet exit from the room. Down the stairs he went. Draco was collecting his cloak and fastening it around his shoulders when he saw her again. Ginny was saying goodbye to someone as she pulled gloves onto her hands.

"Miss Weasley," Draco called out, hurrying towards her while pulling on his own gloves.

Ginny turned at the sound of a voice calling her and watched as Draco Malfoy made his way towards her across the nearly empty Atrium. She quickly glanced around. The only person there was a security guard at the other end who was now watching Draco rather suspiciously. Ginny's friend had already Apparated home.

"Mr. Malfoy," Ginny replied when he was close enough that she could speak quietly. "What a surprise to see you again."

"I believe congratulations are in order," Draco told her, his voice also lowered as he, too, glanced around the Atrium, looking for eavesdroppers. Draco continued, "Your appointment to head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is quite the accomplishment."

Ginny gave Draco a small smile, pulling on her right glove as she replied, "Thank you. It's what I've always wanted."

"You should be proud of yourself for being appointed a department head so young," he replied. There was an awkward silence before he said, even quieter, "It's been a long time."

Ginny held up one gloved hand and shook her head. "Don't," she said as firmly as she could without raising her voice.

"Then why did you-" began Draco, but he stopped abruptly and took a step away from her as a group of three people passed them on their way to the fireplaces.

Ginny shifted on her feet and looked up at Draco. She could tell from the set of his jaw that he had more to say. Glancing around she made up her mind.

"Look, we decided a long time ago to forget," Ginny told him, rushing to finish when he opened his mouth to interrupt, "but if you insist on continuing this, we should leave. Take the lift and go outside, walk around downtown London for a spell and clear up…everything. No one will be around to…bother us then."

"To see us, you mean," Draco replied.

"That's not what I said," hissed Ginny.

"But it's what you meant. I understand. After all, a Malfoy and Weasley together…." he trailed off.

"Who we are has nothing to do with any of this," snapped Ginny, already heading for the phone booth and jabbing a finger at the button. She walked inside and hit the button for the street level.

Draco stood crammed into the tiny phone booth with her, attempting to stand as far away as he could. He glanced sideways at her, and then stared straight ahead and said evenly, "Who we are has always had everything to do with all of this and we might as well stop pretending otherwise." He exited the phone booth and waited for Ginny. "Are you warm enough? It's chilly."

"I'm fine," she replied.

They walked in silence. It seemed that neither knew what to say.

"Where have you been?" Ginny finally asked. Draco could tell by her tone that she was no longer annoyed or frightened or whatever it was she had been with him. "France still?"

"Russia," replied Draco. "A while ago I found that France no longer had anything to offer me."

"And there was in Russia?" Ginny wondered. She could see Draco leaving France for a tall, frosty Russian beauty. Her heart lurched and her stomach tied itself into knots at the thought of Draco effectively taken. But then Ginny reminded herself that she had no control over Draco Malfoy, and he had none over her. She reminded herself that whatever had happened between her and Draco was over, it was in the past and it was buried. And it had meant nothing. It had to have meant nothing. A Malfoy and Weasley did not make sense. There was no reason for it to have happened.

"There was—is, actually—a position for me as Potions Master at Durmstrang," Draco replied. "I live in St. Petersburg."

"Potions Master, that's quite the dignified position," Ginny said awkwardly. "You

should be proud of yourself as well."

"I am," Draco replied. After another spell he commented, "I don't know you anymore."

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny apprehensively.

"Look at us," Draco replied, motioning with his arms, "we're walking down the street as though we were total strangers. You've crossed your arms; I've shoved my hands in my pockets. And I have no idea what to say to you."

"You've changed, so have I," said Ginny.

Ginny looked at Draco for a long time. They had stopped walking. Finally, she looked down and said, "It didn't mean anything, Draco. I would have thought that you, of all people, would have understood that."

Draco tried to ignore the stab of pain he had felt at her words and nodded his head. "What if I want it to have meant something?"

"It can't. _This_ is my life, Draco. I work for the Ministry and I'm successful. My parents are so proud of me. My life makes perfect sense and I know this is what I've always been supposed to do. This is what I've always been supposed to become. And I'm seeing someone," said Ginny, raising her head to once again meet his gaze. "I'm seeing someone I will never have to hide from my family or friends. I'll never have to make explanations for him. I'll never wonder when I walk into a room if his father hurt anyone there. This is my life now, Draco, and it makes sense. What happened between us did not make sense and it can't mean anything. Until tonight I'd nearly forgotten about you and what happened. It can't mean anything. We both know it can't."

Draco looked at Ginny then as if he truly were looking at a stranger. What he saw was a beautiful, sophisticated, successful woman, but he wondered what it had cost her. He wondered if she were happy. She had not said she was happy.

"Ginny," whispered Draco, closing the gap between them and grasping her arms. "You're trying to convince me that we should just forget what happened six years ago in France. After all, there isn't any logical explanation, we should write it off as a mistake. But we have a little mystery here, Ginny. No matter how much you want to erase what happened six years ago, it happened, and you will have to come to terms with that at some point. It's obvious you never trusted me. You never even told me your full name. Why not?"

"It didn't matter," Ginny told him, looking away and pulling her arms half-heartedly, though not breaking his grip on her.

"It's a beautiful name," Draco told her. "Ginevra, like Guenevere," mused Draco. "Tell me, Ginny, are you someone's Guenevere? Are you in love with that bloke you're seeing?"

Ginny looked away and did not reply. Draco wondered what it would be like to be truly loved by such a woman. He had once thought he might have been, perhaps he would have been the Lancelot to Ginny's Guenevere. But that had all been stupid dreams induced by the hot sun in France.

"It's obvious you don't want to be seen with me, and to some extent I don't blame you," said Draco softly. "After all, I am the son of a Death Eater, my name has been dragged through the mud. You would have so much explaining to do, especially given your recent promotion. But, Ginny, if you didn't want to be seen with me, if you truly wanted to forget France and never divulge that you know Draco Malfoy much better than you should, why did you send me this?" Draco had reached into his pocket and was holding something in his hand. "If France really meant nothing to you, why did you break the rules and send me this? Why, after six years of silence on both of our parts, did you finally contact me if you had truly forgotten me?"

Ginny stared at Draco, but said nothing.

"Here," said Draco, something that could have resembled the sneer Ginny had seen so often at Hogwarts appearing on his face. He shoved what he held in his hand into hers. "I have to go. I have some things to tie up before returning to Durmstrang."

"You're going back?" asked Ginny, gripping the paper he had given her in her hand. A thousand other things to say danced on the tip of her tongue, but never made it out of her mouth.

"I have no reason to stay. That was the reason I came back, Ginny," said Draco, gesturing to what she held. "Goodbye."

He did not touch her when he left. He merely took out his wand and Apparated. Ginny glanced around, anxious to see if any Muggles might have seen him, but they had not. They had wandered into a wizard section of London.

Ginny stood out on the street for a few minutes, basked in the orange glow of the streetlights. It felt strange to be on a deserted street. Finally, she looked down at what Draco had shoved at her. It was his invitation to the ball.

_Mister Draco Malfoy_

_Is cordially invited_

_To the British Ministry of Magic's_

_Annual Ball by_

_The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

_Invitation Only. Formal. Table 12._

She stared at it. Ginny had not realized that the invitation would state who had requested it. She had only been curious. She had wanted to see Draco Malfoy one last time, wanted to put aside her curiosities and questions for good. Ginny knew that Harry Potter would be proposing to her soon. She knew that she and Draco had agreed, six years ago, to go their separate ways and never look back. But she had to confess she had looked back. So she sent him the invitation, knowing he would show up and she would be able to look at him and decide whether there could be another life out there for her other than the one she had chosen. Not necessarily a life with Draco, but a different life from hers. She supposed that she had invited Draco because he was the only time she had ever strayed from what she knew to be her path in life. And ever since then Ginny had wondered if for that brief time in France she had accidentally strayed from the wrong path onto the right one.

Ginny flipped the invitation over and was not surprised to see that there was a note on the back. She looked at the writing carefully and realized it was an address. He had given her the location of his residence in Russia. Ginny put the invitation into her pocket, glanced around, took out her wand, and Disapparated.

From a window three stories above her Draco Malfoy looked out and watched Ginevra Weasley disappear from the street below him. He leaned his head on the windowpane and knew that in a few moments he would have to gather all of his paperwork and put things to rights so that he could leave by the end of the week. Draco thought briefly of the place he now called home, of the woman who would be waiting there for him. But Draco knew that no matter how fond he was of the strange city he lived in, his heart would forever remain in England.


End file.
